Third Time's a Charm
by Workaholic Praxian
Summary: A trine of Praxans reside with the Decepticons. What will change and how does the presence of a certain apprentice have anything to do with it? Warning: References of interface, crude humor, mechXmech pairings and violence.
1. First Meeting

**Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers**

Third Time's a Charm

Chapter 1: First Meeting

* * *

"Oh come on!" Silverstreak whined pathetically, "Just one more Autobot. It's not like there aren't plenty to go around. I swear to Primus they won't even know what hit them. All you have to do is let me use your riffle for _one_ shot. It won't be for long, I'll even give it back in one piece."

"I told you to bring extra ammo." An impassive voice replied from his spot on the ledge. "But you didn't listen. You know I don't like it when others use my weapons, especially my acid pellet riffle."

"Silverstreak, it's not _you_, it's _everyone_. Bodycount won't even let _me_ use his stuff and I'm _older_ than you!" Gambler tucked his own weapon into his subspace, hoping that Silverstreak didn't see it and get any ideas.

"Then how about I borrow your throwing daggers? I'll reclaim them when I'm done."

"No." Gambler answered, making sure that the remainder of his weapons were properly hidden from the slightly smaller Praxian. "If Bodycount won't let us attack from up close, then it's pointless for you to use my daggers. You'd still be putting yourself into direct line of fire and we _both_ know how he gets."

"B-b-but." Silverstreak pouted.

"No, Silverstreak." Bodycount spoke up, twitching his doorwings before standing to dislodge any debris that might have accumulated. "It's time to go. They're back to the meeting point."

"Aw… It was just getting fun." Silverstreak's doorwings drooped as he slid across the ledge to the main path which was more visible and was less likely to cause the Praxians to fall to their death.

* * *

Soundwave entered the sparsely decorated office. "Inquiry: Results of raid?"

"Five casualties, all of which are in the medbay being treated by Hook." Bodycount replied in a manner reminiscent of boredom. "Targeted supplies and Intel have been successfully obtained. As such, they have been moved to the proper departments."

"Inquiry: Number of Autobot deaths?"

"Thirty two deaths and seventeen casualties." Bodycount sent a pointed look at Silverstreak's direction as the 'con lounged in the corner while giving his sniper rifle a thorough cleaning. "Optimus Prime was one of the casualties and has been moved to another base for better protection."

"It was my last bullet!" Silverstreak protested, "How was I supposed to know that he would be there, let alone be closely watched by that walking pair of cannons?!"

Bodycount rubbed his chevron tiredly, "It's been a long decacycle. If you don't mind, I'm going to retire for the night. Silverstreak, make sure Gambler doesn't get into too much trouble this time. I don't want to have to explain to Megatron why a handful of troops are dead again."

"Advice: Sleep, defrag and keep your trinemates out of trouble." With that, Soundwave left the office, leaving the two Praxians behind as the cassette player headed to his own quarters.

Bodycount turned his attention to Silverstreak, "Don't get into trouble again. Break up the fight, don't encourage it. No high-grade for either you or Gambler and be sure to get some sleep and defrag sometime tonight. We're all getting up bright and early for combat practice."

Silverstreak scrunched up his faceplate, "But I don't want to practice on drones! Why don't we work on the prisoners or better yet, go play at an Autobot base?"

Bodycount sighed, "We need to keep our skills sharp and the nearby bases are on lockdown."

Silverstreak grinned, "That makes it even more fun."

Bodycount shook his helm in defeat before getting up from his rather comfortable chair. He then ushered Silverstreak out of his office and made sure that it was securely locked behind him before heading to their shared quarters.

* * *

"What am I supposed to do with these?" Brawn questioned, completely confused as he displayed his cards to Vortex.

Vortex laughed hysterically, "See that Queen? That means that you're supposed to get on the table and strip off your armor for all to see."

"But I thought that's how you play for Strip Poker."

"This isn't poker." Onslaught growled, "And move. It's your turn."

"Since when did we play _just_ poker?" Swindle questioned with a charming smile adorned on his faceplate. "We always throw something in to it like betting, dares, confessions, stripping and my personal favorite: high-grade."

Brawn hurriedly glanced around at his teammates and Gambler as they watched him with varying degrees of impatience. Setting his cards face down, he fumbled at his shoulder armor.

"Whoa there's no need for that. Bodycount said to keep it on the down low and we can't exactly do that with the other Decepticons getting all riled up with the sight of your bare aft." Gambler intervened, much to the displeasure of Vortex. "Just ask someone here if they have a card that matches up with one of yours."

Brawn glared at Vortex who just laughed it off before picking back up his cards. "Blastoff, do you have a three?"

"Go Fish." Blastoff replied with half lidded optics.

"Oh, ok. Now what?" Brawn looked hopefully towards Gambler.

"Now you pick up a card from the pile and wait for your turn. If you have a card that someone else asks you for, hand it over."

Onslaught scowled, "Brawn, hand over your queen or I'll rip your helm off."

Brawn handed it over without complaint.

"So tell me," Swindle began, "When was the last time Bodycount had a good, hard frag?"

All optics were suddenly on Gambler, "You see, trine interfacing is fun and all, but it's even better when two trines go at it. Silverstreak is an energetic kind of bot, even in the berth though you'd have to get through Bodycount to even lay a hand on him. Bodycount on the other hand…." Gambler dramatically paused, making those around him, even the other inhabitants in the Rec Room look to him in wonder, "Once you get him started, he doesn't stop very easily. He'll go at it multiple times in a row if you let him get away with it. It's like he gets all of his desire to frag for the vorn all out in one go. It's an impressive sight, even more so when you're in the berth with him."

Blastoff gave him an unimpressed look but refused to say anything.

"That's complete slag!" Swindle good naturedly claimed.

"I know it is, but I just wanted to see if any of you thick helmed 'cons would realize it." The others in the Rec Room grumbled in disappointment before turning back to their own business. "The last berthmate he had was Shockwave. It was an odd sight and I wouldn't have seen it coming even if Primus himself had told me. They're like minded and all that slag, something about having to deal with Silverstreak and I while Shockwave has to deal with that younger brother of his. I remember Shockwave complaining about how every time he turned his back, Soundwave had another cassette."

"How'd he manage that?" Brawn questioned.

Onslaught smacked Brawn, "Did you forget about the bolts and screws again?"

"…Maybe…"

Blastoff rubbed his servo over his faceplate, "I'm not explaining it; I did it last time."

"And that's probably why he forgot." Gambler teased, "I understand Soundwave is very social, but I didn't think he'd be _that_ social. I mean, _seriously_, even Jazz doesn't have any creations running about."

"I once heard that he finds them and is too soft sparked to get rid of them so Soundwave just acts as if they're his." Swindle raised an optic, "I know quite a few individuals who would pay good money to see vids of Soundwave giving birth to those brats."

Gambler glanced to the door and groaned in frustration by the sight of the individual that he thought he free from for the night. "How'd Bodycount give you the slip?"

Silverstreak looked around and finding no empty chairs, he got behind Onslaught who instantly tensed up the moment that the grey and red praxian touched him. "Bodycount decided to go to sleep. That and apparently we have combat practice again tomorrow morning. He said something about no high-grade, so if you already had some, you should give me some too that way you won't be the only one in trouble."

"Not tonight." Gambler responded, purple armor flashing in the light as he pulled another card from the pile. "Have you seen any bots get a reaction from Bodycount as of late? He really needs a berthmate, even if only for the night and last I heard, the seekers pissed him off."

"Nope." Silverstreak sung right before climbing up on Onslaught and wrapping himself around the larger mech's shoulders like a scarf. "So… Onslaught…"

Onslaught tensed even more under those wandering fingers as Silverstreak explored his frame, doorwings fluttering in amusement.

"Are these new upgrades?" He slid his fingers over the thick slates of armor that made up Onslaught's upper torso. "They're nice."

"Keep your servos to yourself." Onslaught grumbled, trying to ignore the praxian as he continued to play the game. "And get off of me."

"You've gotten stronger. Been working out?" Silverstreak teased. He was really enjoying getting under the plating of those who weren't in his trine and the black and brown uptight praxian wasn't anywhere near to tell him to stop. "When was the last time you had a good 'face? I bet it's been longer than Bodycount."

Onslaught clenched his servos, wanting nothing but to rip the praxian from him and beat him senseless, but if he did that, then he'd have to deal with Silverstreak's trinemates. Bodycount wasn't someone that he or anyone sane would want to mess with when angry. So he did what was the next best thing. Onslaught extracted Silverstreak from his frame, got up and dumped the surprised praxian onto Vortex before leaving the room.

"What the-?"

Vortex grinned a grin that he usually reserved for the prisoners. "I know of a good storage closet with plenty of room for the two of us."

Silverstreak scrambled to his pedes. "I'll pass."

"Don't praxians have a thing for the air frames?" Vortex purred, petting one of Silverstreak's doorwings and dipping his fingertips into the sensitive seems on the younger mech's back. "I know all the best places to touch."

Silverstreak spun around and punched Vortex in the faceplate. "Don't touch me."

The others got up while Gambler packed up his scattered cards. Gambler supposed it could have gone worse though on the bright side, at least he could claim that he wasn't involved this time.

"Let me know if you ever change your mind." Vortex gleefully stated with energon dripping down his faceplate from where he had just gotten hit.

* * *

"What happened?" Bodycount questioned the moment the door to their shared quarters slid open. He didn't even bother to look due to having dealt with the same thing time and time again.

Gambler smirked, "I didn't do anything."

Silverstreak entered right after Gambler and with an irritated twitch of his doorwings stated in a matter of fact tone, "Vortex tried getting me to interface with him so I punched him."

"Congratulation on not using your rifle to settle your differences this time." With that, Bodycount went back to sleep.

"Hey, I'm not _that_ bad!" Silverstreak protested.

Gambler snickered, "Do you even remember half the reasons why you shoot bots? We both ended up in the brig last time though admittedly I started it."

Silverstreak frowned, "It wasn't my fault. As a Decepticon, it's either shoot or be shot. I'm just doing what I need to do."

"And that's why Bodycount won't let anyone touch his weapons anymore." Gambler settled down on his berth, "Don't get me wrong, it was awesome watching you bludgeon that Wrecker with Bodycount's last riffle when you ran out of bullets, but breaking it and having it filled with bits of processor when you gave it back wasn't what he had in mind. You just _had_ to be the first to ever borrow a weapon from him and now he won't even let _me_ touch them."

"It was pretty cool wasn't it?" Silverstreak got into a comfortable position on his back as he looked up at the darkened ceiling. "I took out two Autobots with it that way and the only reason why it broke was because I hit Ironhide."

"Did he see you?"

"Of course not. I got him from behind and so he didn't see me. I was so surprised when it broke that I grabbed the pieces and hid."

"Is that why you don't like him very much?"

"Why wouldn't I like that walking pair of cannons? He was the closest to finding our hiding spot and that was only because Jazz mentioned seeing gunfire from somewhere in the vicinity."

* * *

"You know Bodycount, I never knew how you could clean your armor and perform maintenance so meticulously and still manage to finish first." Gambler said as he scrubbed away at his detached chestplate. "It's like no matter how fast I work, you always manage to get done before me."

"I have more experience." Bodycount stated, "Silverstreak, you need to stop playing with the soap."

"I know, I know." Silverstreak mumbled as got back to work. His armor was scattered about him in a jumbled mess. It wasn't his fault the bubbles were so distracting.

Scooting over, Bodycount grabbed the nearest piece of armor and began scrubbing. Silverstreak, already used to such occurrence seeing how he was the slowest at maintenance, didn't even complain and claim that he was a full grown mech who knows how to take care of himself.

Securely latching the last plate of armor into place, Gambler performed his usual stretches and made sure everything was in its proper place before helping Silverstreak as well. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do with the exception of possibly snooping around and gathering blackmail.

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

Three sets of doorwings perked up at the sound of the alarm.

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

"I bet a cube of high-grade that it's going off because Skywarp scared whoever was on duty." Gambler said with a smirk.

"Yeah, well…" Silverstreak paused, trying to come up with a good explanation, "I bet two cubes of high-grade that Swindle forgot to pay the energy suppliers again so it's going off as a pre-warning."

"You don't even have high-grade!" Gambler protested.

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

Bodycount shot the two of them a glare before getting up and grabbing his acid pellet riffle. "This could be something serious. Silverstreak, get your armor back on."

"But I'm not finished yet!" Silverstreak squeaked.

"We'll finish it later. Gambler, help Silverstreak." Bodycount opened the door and left in the direction of the command center.

The two did as they were told until the alarm cut short with a single message.

: _We're under attack. Autobots have the base surrounded._ :

"Frag." Gambler cursed. "We're both wrong."

The base shook as a nearby explosion went off followed by the yells of Autobots and Decepticons alike.

Gambler and Silverstreak poked their helms out the door. Catching sight of a familiar pair of fully charged cannons, Silverstreak darted out of the room and in the opposite direction.

"Silverstreak, get your aft over here! You don't have all of your armor on yet!" Torn between two options, Gambler claimed the last few slates of Silverstreak's armor and the abandoned riffle before running after his trinemate.

Silverstreak weaved his way through the Decepticons, many of which were running in the opposite direction, with great ease. Granted some stopped to stare and possibly take image captures, but Silverstreak didn't pay them much attention.

He didn't care where he was going as so long as it was as far away from Ironhide as possible. Being as preoccupied as he was, Silverstreak didn't notice that he managed to escape the base and run straight into an Autobot camp.

Wide eyed, Silverstreak ran into a temporary structure and hid behind a tall stack of supplies. He could feel his spark racing in terror as he tried to analyze the situation that he put himself in.

:_ Silverstreak, where are you?_ :

Silverstreak jumped ever so slightly at the sudden comm before answering. : _Hey, Gambler. More Autobots are positioned at the eastern side of the base. It looks like they're getting ready to say hello._ :

: _I'll tell Bodycount._ : There was a slight pause. :_ How do you know that?_ :

: _I'm looking straight at them. Don't worry, I'm hidden._ :

: _Get back to the base or Bodycount will throw a fit. I have your riffle and the rest of your armor._ :

: _I'll do my best._ : Silverstreak replied before cutting the comm line.

Gently, he stepped out of his hiding spot only to dart behind another crate as his doorwings picked up the movement of another bot.

"Relax, Aid. Ya'll do fine. If anythin' Ratch's on da other side of da base." A voice spoke up as what Silverstreak thought was just one bot appeared to be two.

How could one be so quiet?

"I know, it just…. How you so sure that they don't know we're positioned here?"

"Ironhide made plenty of noise on da other side, plus with all of da frontliners an' gunners, the 'cons will be too distracted ta notice."

BOOM

"Isn't that the signal?" The much softer voice questioned.

"Yup. Time fer meh ta go."

Silverstreak waited a while before making his next move. He tried backtracking only to almost run into a black and white polyhexian with a shining blue visor. Backpedaling as fast as he could, he retreated back to the area where he had been listening in on the two 'bots. He noticed a little bit too late that he somehow managed to end up on the wrong side of the crates and directly into another Autobot.

Silverstreak and the other bot fell to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs. "Oof."

"Sorry!" Silverstreak quickly apologized as he struggled to get back to his pedes.

A gentle servo placed in the center of his back pushed him up and off of the Autobot. Silverstreak spun around and without a second thought, offered his servo to help up the other.

A red and white medic with a blue visor and mask took the offered servo and was pulled back to his pedes. "Thank you. I didn't see you coming. Is something the matter?"

Silverstreak stared at the medic in fascination. Since when were medbots so kind and gentle? He knew for certain Hook wasn't the most tender of medbots and assumed the others were the same. However he quickly realized this was an apprentice.

"I haven't seen you around before." The medbot continued, "This is my first time on the battlefield. I'm First Aid."

"I usually keep my distance." Silverstreak muttered, staring intently at the visor.

"I haven't seen any Praxians up close before. Do you mind if I touch your doorwings?" First Aid carefully asked, trying his best not to offend the other.

"…Sure?" Silverstreak moved to the side so that the other could have better access. He wasn't used to individuals being so polite and when it came down to it, it was hard to deny this mech.

"I hope I'm not being rude, but…" First Aid paused, "Being on the battlefield and all… shouldn't you be wearing more armor?"

"Just because I should doesn't mean I always do." Silverstreak purred contently as First Aid rubbed the doorwing. "A little to your left. Ah yes, right there. Yes, that's perfect."

He was suddenly aware of another presence. Looking over, he confirmed his suspicions. Reluctantly, he pulled away from that wonderful servo.

"It's been great getting to know you, but I have to go." With a little wave, Silverstreak slipped off in the direction of his trinemate who wasn't very pleased by what he had seen.

"What were you doing?!" Gambler hissed, reconnecting the remainder of Silverstreak's armor before shoving his riffle into his servos. "The base is under attack and you let an _Autobot_ medic play with your doorwing?"

"It wasn't exactly play. It was more like… petting." Silverstreak gave Gambler a wide grin, "Besides, medics really are good with their servos and this was an _apprentice_. It's not like he was going to _kill_ me."

"You're lucky I'm not going to tell Bodycount about this." Gambler flicked his doorwings in slight annoyance. "You're lucky I care about you."

With a seemingly innocent look, Silverstreak singed, "I love you too."

Gambler huffed, trying to hide back the fond look in the process, "We have Autobots to turn back. Don't run off again. You almost gave me a spark attack."

* * *

: _Constructicons, attack the Autobots in the eastern side of the base. Combaticons, deal with the Autobots in the western side of the base. Seekers, get into formation and circle the base's perimeter. Reduce the number as much as you can, but focus on the outside forces. Silverstreak, Gambler, meet me at the command center._ : Bodycount poured over the incoming information and continued to move troops around in the most efficient manner as he could in the unexpected attack. A good portion of the Decepticons were off base with Megatron.

Either the Autobots were good at guessing or had spies within the Decepticon ranks because as far as Bodycount could see, this was one if not the best time to attack.

"Very skilled hacker now knows of our presence." Soundwave spoke up as he continued to fend the mystery bot off. "Location: Unknown."

"How do you know this?"

"Overheard transmission and feels me fighting him back in the security system."

"Frag." Bodycount quietly muttered. He and his team were unknown and as far as the Autobots knew, didn't exist. They functioned to some extent like Shockwave in that they worked in the shadows, far from the visible surface of movement.

Luckily, the hacker currently only knew his voice and not his appearance though for how long depended on how good the hacker was and if this bot could get pass Soundwave.

Knock, knock.

"Good, they're here." Bodycount was about to open the door when Soundwave stopped him.

"Autobot posers. Your trine are in the next hallway."

Bodycount pulled himself from the controls for the door, thankful that Soundwave caught the mistake before he accidently let Autobots in the command center.

Knock, knock.

Creak

Bodycount pulled his riffle from his subspace and aimed it overhead. His doorwings were held in a ridged posture as he strained them to pick up any other sounds.

"Someone's in the air ducts." Bodycount whispered so that only Soundwave could hear him.

"Your trine is here. Let them in." Soundwave commanded, acting as if he hadn't heard what Bodycount had just said.

Hesitantly, Bodycount lowered his riffle from the ceiling and pressed the button to open the door. Even though he was ready to attack and appeared to be completely focused on the door, he kept his doorwings trained on the air duct.

"I'm just saying, Autobots are getting really crafty." Gambler said as he leaned down to pry one of his throwing dagger from the frame of an Autobot. He spun it once before tucking it away.

Silverstreak grinned, "Oh hey B-"

"Get in." Bodycount commanded, purposely cutting Silverstreak off so their visitor couldn't catch his name.

The two did as they were told and the door was once again securely locked into place.

Resorting to using his doorwings to communicate with his trinemates, Bodycount began, :: _Someone's in the air duct above us. Soundwave's dealing with a skilled hacker so it may be this bot._ ::

:: _How about I just keep shooting until I hit the bot?_ :: Silverstreak questioned excitedly as he discretely peered up.

:: _If you shoot the air duct with your acid pellet riffle enough times, the metal will be weakened and the bot will fall in here. _Then_ we can shoot._ :: Gambler improvised.

SIlverstreak and Bodycount nodded in agreement.

With quick, precise movements, Bodycount turned, aimed and repeatedly fired in the area where he had heard the creak originate from. The metal groaned as its ability to hold the added weight of the visitor lowered.

Realizing too late that he was going to soon be visiting those he had been above, the bot cursed and braced himself the best he could for the fall.

"Hacker repelled." Soundwave stated with a tinge of pride in his voice.

A sleek black and white polyhexian scrambled to his pedes. Knowing the danger he was now in, the 'bot put on a charming smile while he analyzed the other inhabitants of the room. "Dis is such a lovely day."

Silverstreak had his riffle aimed right at the hacker's sparkchamber.

Bodycount frowned, "This is Jazz, the head of the Autobot's Special Operations. He's currently worth more to us alive."

"Ya got a nice set of doorwin's. It'd be a shame if somethin' happened ta them." Jazz watched the movements of the doorwings in fascination. "Ah heard dat they're _awfully_ sensitive."

"Touch them and I'll break your visor." Bodycount hissed.

"Like ta play rough? Ya sure are an interestin' mech. Ah neva' caught yer designation."

"Can I shoot? I promise I'll make it quick, unless you want him to suffer a bit first…" Silverstreak trailed off.

:: _He's _actually_ getting Bodycount riled up. If someone can get a reaction from him, then it's a good thing, regardless of the emotion._ ::

Silverstreak perked up at Gambler's comment, lowering his riffle in the process.

"What'd they say?" Jazz asked confused, "Ah know they said somethin'."

Bodycount made sure Soundwave was keeping a sharp optic on the saboteur before looking back at his trinemates. :: _What is it?_ ::

:: _Nothing._ :: Both quickly replied with mischievous looks on their faceplates.

Bodycount turned back to Jazz only to find the hacker looking around the room with mild curiosity. "Ya got a fine place here."

Scrapper spoke on the Decepticon main comm line. : _Autobots are retreating._ :

Onslaught stated with mild disappointment. : _Same in the western section._ :

More individuals confirmed this.

With a heavy sigh, Bodycount spoke, "We're bringing Jazz to the brig. Will you interrogate him or do you want Vortex to?"

"Ah got a better idea." Jazz replied, "How 'bout ya save yerself da trouble and let meh go?"

"No." Bodycount snapped.

"I will." Soundwave went back to work, "Tell Scrapper to fix the ceiling."

"Ooh, can I?" Silverstreak was practically bouncing on his pedes in excitement.

"Very well, but after we get Jazz locked up."

Gambler opened the door and made sure that it would shut and lock behind them.

* * *

**Author's Note: So that's all I have on it so far. It's amazing what boredom can do to a person, especially when they start being creative. So what do you think so far?**


	2. The Escape

**Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers**

Third Time's a Charm

Chapter 2: The Escape

* * *

Jazz settled into his assigned brig cell, lounging on the floor as if it was the most comfortable berth he had ever had access to. "Hope ta see ya three again sometime soon!" Jazz called after the praxians.

Their trine leader appeared to not be impressed while the youngest of the three chattered excitedly with the third member of the trine.

He waited for the doors to close behind them before giving the other prisoners a mock salute. "Fancy seein' all of ya here."

Sunstreaker scowled at him before picking at the dried energon off his arm.

Sideswipe grinned, "Welcome to the club. Got any good stuff?"

"Just a cube of high grade fer each and every one of ya all once we get back." Jazz smirked, "Security's a bit lax."

"What are you talking about?" Mirage questioned from a corner cell, "The bars are just as powered as before."

Jazz stretched out before settling down into a comfortable position, playing music that only he could hear. "Yeah, but they're seein' a feedback loop so we have plenty of privacy as long as no one comes in. Is everyone here?"

"Yes." Perceptor answered, "When the commotion started up, they brought Patch back in and he's been resting ever since."

"Ya might as well wake him 'cause I have a little trick Ah wanna show everyone."

Perceptor gently nudged Patch awake who looked around with optics that told of many sleepless nights.

"In four… three…. two… one…" Jazz motioned to the bars seconds before they powered down for each and every cell.

"How did you do that?" Patch questioned.

Jazz put a finger up to his lips, "Shhh…. its mah little secret."

* * *

Silverstreak sat at their usual table in the Rec Room while Gambler volunteered to get energon from across the room. As he approached the energon dispenser, he overheard a cluster of Decepticons talking about the events of the day. Gambler discreetly positioned his doorwings so that he could overhear the conversation.

"Did you see Silverstreak when the base was first attacked? He was running around without his armor." A dark blue femme started.

"It might be some kind of weird fetish." A purple mech shrugged, "You never know, Vortex gets off on pain. Maybe the praxian was trying something new."

A silver mech added in, "Or stupid. He could have easily offlined with a stunt like that."

"Blackshot claimed Silverstreak was running away from the Autobots. What a wimp. I bet the only reason why he's here is because someone's getting a good frag, perhaps multiple 'cons." A green mech snarled.

Hearing enough, Gambler nonchalantly poured his ration on the floor into a precise shape and depth. "If you're going to talk about my trinemate like that, don't do it behind our backs."

"And what are you going to do about it?" The green mech sneered, "Get Bodycount to throw us in the brig?"

The silver mech spoke up, "Or have Silverstreak shoot us in the aft? Oh wait, he'd rather be the one shot."

Calculating how heavy Silverstreak's ration was, Gambler threw it at the silver mech's faceplate, causing the cube to be emptied onto the once pristine armor.

Hearing the sound, those in the Rec Room looked over to see what was going on, including Silverstreak who looked amused by the display.

Wiping the energon off his face, the silver mech got up from his spot and came after Gambler who at last minute, dodged the larger mech slid a good distance when his ped hit the puddle before falling on his aft.

The dark blue femme jumped over the table in which she was sitting at while the purple mech circled around that way they could attack from two different sides.

"You know this isn't exactly fair." Gambler mused, servos barely brushing up against his well hidden throwing knives.

"You started it." The green mech joined his friends in surrounding the praxian.

"Actually you did when you insulted my trinemate." Gambler flashed them a cheeky grin before whipping out his knife and embedding it in the purple mech as he came in to attack Gambler.

Angry, the green mech pulled out his gun and aimed at Gambler. Gambler came in close and disarmed the mech, two hard blows to the arm, breaking the limb in one go. The gun fell uselessly to the floor as the mech stepped back to cradle his arm.

A blue servo hooked onto the armor on his back, right before flinging Gambler into the nearest table with a loud crash.

Gambler twitched his doorwings as he let out a pained grunt.

Well that wasn't expected. The femme moved a lot faster than he had calculated, not to mention stronger than she looked.

Clenching her fists, two blades slid out of place from the compartments on her arms, giving off a sheen as the light hit it that Scavenger would love to add to his collection.

Gambler got up and made sure that the table was between them as he pulled out two close range swords.

As she circled around, Gambler went in the same direction, keeping a close optic on where the energon puddle was as he neared it. The femme was suddenly before him, blades colliding against his as they struggled to find openings and take advantage of them. Gambler nudged back ever so slightly with every blow.

When she got close enough, Gambler moved to the side before throwing an unexpected kick. She braced herself only for her pedes to scrape on the ground and slip on the energon puddle. Quickly retracting her blades, she caught herself before something regrettable happened.

It was then that Megatron entered the room, Bodycount beside him as they talked about what sounded like a great opportunity which knowing Bodycount, it was in reference to the special ops agent residing in the brig.

"What's the meaning of this?!" Megatron snarled upon noticing the mess.

Catching Bodycount's stern look, Gambler hid his swords before Megatron could notice them though the throwing dagger was still firmly lodged in the purple mech's chassis. It wasn't as if the mech was dead, but by the looks of it, he was cautious about not wanting it to something important.

"They were fighting over my honor." Silverstreak explained, "And I think Gambler did a good job, but Hook's not going to be so happy."

Bodycount rubbed his chevron, "I left you two alone for several breems and _this_ is what happens?"

"Pretty much." Gambler admitted, "Why you put up with us, we'll never know. There's a betting pool on the reason, though some are under the impression that you _genuinely_ care about us."

: _Hook, your assistance is needed in the Rec Room._ :

: _Bodycount, what is it now?! If you haven't noticed, I'm on my energon break._ :

: _A fight in the Rec Room. One is unconscious and two need repairs. Bring your cleaning drones as well._ :

: _I just got them. How'd you know?_ :

: _I have my ways. Consider it a test run._ : Bodycount switched his attention to his trinemates. "We need to have a talk… _again_."

"Bodycount, don't worry about it." Megatron stated as he went to get energon for him and the tactician, "No one has offlined and I wanted to talk to the three of you about the events in my absence."

"Very well, Lord Megatron." Bodycount flicked his doorwings in a gesture to the other praxians to come with him.

* * *

"Have you determined the reasoning behind the latest attack?" Megatron questioned as he relaxed on his throne while the praxians stood side by side before him with Bodycount in the center.

"With the evidence that I have, the only reason to attack other than the sake of attacking and damaging not only the base, but the inhabitants within is an act of revenge for yesterday's attack on their base. As such, as so long as you don't conveniently and spontaneously decide to go for a drive with a large portion of the troops and attack those you come across that you don't like, we should be fine for a while."

Silverstreak snorted.

"Who's in charge of interrogating the newest prisoner?"

"Soundwave." Bodycount replied, "He is a good choice and we're more likely to get information from the special ops agent than we are if Vortex does."

:: _Have you ever noticed that Megatron looks like he has a bucket on his head?_ :: Silverstreak oh so innocently questioned.

:: _Perhaps we should call him Lord Buckethead._ ::

The two snickered.

Bodycount hit both of them simultaneously with his doorwings. :: _Stop that._ ::

:: _Lord Buckethead._ :: Silverstreak mused, :: _I like the sound of that. All hail the mighty Buckethead!_ ::

Gambler doubled over in laughter.

"What are you talking about?" Megatron asked in a not so pleased tone. He understood that Praxians, like Seekers had their own codes or language based on the movement and position of their wings, but even then, due to the greater flexibility of doorwings, the two languages were vastly different.

Silverstreak beat Bodycount to the question, "I overheard the Autobots referring to you as Buckethead. In fact, I believe Ironhide started it. They seemed to be very fond of the nickname. Gambler and I found the idea of what you'd do once you get ahold of them to be very amusing."

"Then I'll be sure to pay them a little _visit_." Megatron growled, not liking the idea of being called Buckethead at all, while he plotted various ways to enact his revenge.

Starscream entered the room, a scowl on his faceplate. "Lord Megatron, I thought you'd like to know that Bodycount's _brilliant_ idea to lock Autobot Jazz in the brig with the other Autobot prisoners was a horrible idea."

The trine gave Starscream a curious look.

"Why is that?"

"We found out when Soundwave went in to get Jazz that the security for the brig was down and all of the Autobots had escaped some time before."

Bodycount clenched his servos. "It was a ploy to not only get revenge, but to rescue the Autobot prisoners."

This meant war.

He was going to get back at Jazz for making him look like a fool and losing all of the other prisoners in the process.

Next time, he wasn't going to underestimate the polyhexian.

* * *

"Welcome back my main mech!" Blaster pulled Jazz into a tight hug, "I was beginning to think we'd have to send someone after you."

Once Jazz was released, he stepped back and handed the cassette player a datachip, "Ah got ya his _entire_ music collection when 'Wave was busy thinking Ah was after 'Screamer's personal files."

"Great, but what took you so long? You're not usually this happy after completing a mission."

"Oh, stuff." Jazz folded his arms behind his helm, "Getting' captured, flirtin' with a mech with such beautiful doorwings and a great processor ta boot, oh and breakin' out of da brig with the rest of da prisoners."

"Oh, I see. We'll have to celebrate your great accomplishments." Blaster drapped an arm across Jazz's shoulders as he lead the head of special ops to the Rec Room. He stopped midstep and gave Jazz a skeptical look, "You were flirting with a Decepticon?!"

"Sure was! Ah've never seen him around before. Mah only regret is dat Ah didn't get a designation. He's got a whole trine with him."

"Jazz, I thought you said you had enough with pursuing Seekers after what happened last time."

"Relax mech." Jazz chuckled, "He's the leader of a Praxian trine."

"Jazz, my main mech, I worry about you and your sanity."

"Ratch' had meh tested for mah sanity 'bout a vorn ago." Jazz said with a grin, "And he said Ah either lost it or never had it ta begin with."

Blaster sighed, "What am I going to do without you?"

"Listen ta the music Ah got ya and wonder if Soundwave will ever notice?"

Blaster shook his helm before continuing on the way to the Rec Room.


	3. The New Recruit

**Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers**

Third Time's a Charm

Chapter 3: The New Recruit

* * *

"Darkshade, why aren't there as many officers running this base compared to the others?"

"You're new, so I wouldn't expect you to understand." Darkshade replied, red optics flickering over to the door before looking back to the new Decepticon. "Besides, you'll find out eventually if you stick around long enough."

"Is it true that you can get on the good side of the higher ups by giving them high grade and the occasional 'face?"

"Static, you certainly learn fast." Darkshade chuckled, "If I'm not careful, you'll get promoted before I do and I've been here for a vorn!"

"I've learned from the best." Static put his pedes up on the table in the Rec Room.

"How about I give you a good polishing when we get back to our quarters?"

"Did I miss a spot?" Static gave himself a once over, "I could have sworn I got everything."

Darkshade lowered his voice, "I have a reliable supplier of polish. It'd make you look so good, Lord Megatron will drop Starscream without a second thought for a chance with you."

"You flatter me." Static smirked, "What do you want in exchange for such a luxurious offer?"

"Nothing." Darkshade responded at his normal voice level, "Think of it as a way to celebrate your first day here and as the start of our friendship."

"Friendship is a big deal in the 'cons." Static mused, "But we all need as much support as we can get. You got a deal."

Darkshade grinned, "Welcome to the Decepticons!"

* * *

"What do you want?" Bodycount questioned without even looking up from his datapads that were spread out across his desk.

"Bodycount, why won't you even look at me?" Silverstreak sniffed, "Sometimes I think you don't even like Gambler and me."

Begrudgingly, Bodycount looked up, locking optics with the younger praxian. "I'm busy."

Silverstreak grinned, "You're so silly! You can't tell us you're busy all the time. After all, you'll run out of datapads eventually."

"That's what I thought when we first came here." Bodycount grumbled.

"Gambler and I would really appreciate it if you helped us with a betting pool."

"I don't gamble."

Silverstreak plopped down into one of the chairs, "The troops need some assurance that the officers are just like every other bot, especially after what happened the other day."

Bodycount crossed his arms, giving his trinemate a disapproving look, "Our presence is a secret from the Autobots. The less who know of us, the better."

"_Anyway_, there's a bet going on that's based on how well you know how to play card games, but in order for any of us to see the _fun-loving_ side of our resident workaholic, you need to take a break from all of this." Silverstreak motioned to the various datapads. "Besides, you need to refuel and I'm not getting it _for_ you today."

With a raised optic bridge, Bodycount questioned, "What does the betting pool contain _this_ time?"

Silverstreak shrugged, "A lot think you don't know how to play while most think that you're going to give up early due to doing poorly. A small handful know, or just guessed the truth."

"I'll take a break _this_ time." Bodycount chuckled, "If just to prove their beliefs to be incorrect."

"Thank you, Bodycount!" Silverstreak bounced up to his pedes in order to tackle Bodycount in a hug as the officer left his beloved desk.

"You're welcome." Bodycount nuzzled his helm into the warm armor around Silverstreak's neck as he gently stroked Silverstreak's back, right where the doorwings connected.

Silverstreak gave a purr of delight before wiggling his way out of Bodycount's arms. "Come on! We need to get going before the high grade is gone!"

"Silverstreak, you didn't say anything about high grade." Bodycount halfheartedly protested as Silverstreak pulled him out of the room.

* * *

"Hey Darkshade, who's that?" Static discretely pointed at the purple praxian who was getting ready for a card game as the Constructicons brought in high grade with the assistance of their alt modes.

"Gambler." Darkshade whispered, "He's in charge of all betting, card games and bets held on the base. If it wasn't for the fights he gets himself into, we'd all still be thinking he was all talk and no action without a single weapon to his designation. The only time I've ever seen him fight the Autobots was when they attacked the base and even then, those who saw him didn't live very long to talk about it."

"What, are we talking cloak and dagger?"

"Something like that."

Static watched the praxian move about, making sure that everything was appropriately set up for what was to come. "What does he do for the base other than that? Surely it must be something important to not have to leave the base for attacks."

"Many wonder the same thing." Darkshade paused, "Some think he's an assassin of some sort especially after seeing how skilled he is with his blades."

Cassettes ran into the room, followed by a much more relaxed Soundwave, in order to set up the sound systems.

"How about the tape deck?"

Darkshade shivered, "You don't want to get on his bad side. He can read processors. He's in charge of communications and some say he's also in charge of the special operations on this base. Regardless, don't mess with him. Soundwave's brother, Shockwave, is another mech you don't want to mess with. Shockwave's very cold and has nothing against turning you into his next experiment. Luckily, Shockwave moved to a new base, so we don't have to worry as much about the disappearance of troops."

As time went on, more and more Decepticons began to show up. Some were there to help set things up while the others were waiting for the party to begin. Right before it started, two more praxians entered the Rec Room.

"Hey, who are they?"

"Gambler's trinemates. That brown one is Bodycount, the leader of the trine and the other is Silverstreak. Silverstreak really likes his sniper rifle. He's good with it, even at close range. Like Gambler, we don't see them joining us for any attacks though sometimes I think Silverstreak is out there with us, at a distance, because it's not natural for Autobots to spontaneously have a bullet wound and drop over dead. Silverstreak's renown for getting under the plating of others, for the amusement and because he can get away with it. He was running away from Ironhide the other day, no clue why."

"Ironhide, as in the Autobot Ironhide?"

"Heh, who else is pair of cannons with a mech attached? Have you ever seen that 'bot angry before? I have and let me tell you, it's not a pretty sight. Energon gets everywhere in a relatively short period of time. I was lucky I was so far away or I wouldn't have made it out of there."

"How about the leader? What does Bodycount do?"

"We don't see him around much, not even in the base. He inevitably shows up to drag Gambler and Silverstreak out of trouble. Sometimes he interferes in fights while more often than not, he's pulling the two out of the brig for heavily injuring or killing Decepticons in the Rec Room. Place can turn into a battlefield if they get riled up enough."

"Joy." Static muttered, "Is he one of the officers? He'd need to be or have some pretty fragging strong connections to have the ability to take them out of the brig."

"A while back, my last roommate claimed he found a secret section of the base and was on the verge of figuring out what Bodycount's occupation was, but then he _mysteriously_ disappeared. What bothers me the most about that situation isn't that my old roommate and 'face partner is most likely dead, it's that we didn't find any evidence that that's the case. We didn't find a single piece of him."

"Ouch. Isn't there a way to get on Bodycount's good side? Does he like something in particular like a backrub?"

Darkshade shrugged, "Not that I know of. You'd have better luck asking Silverstreak or Gambler. No one has ever had the ball bearings to ask. As far as I know, he doesn't have a good side, but you're welcome to try. Let me know what you find out, preferably before you go missing."

* * *

Light red optics leisurely trailed over the others around the large round table, faceplate reminiscent of boredom as he lightly pressed on the cards. His voice, light and soft muttered the words that had those around them lingering. Even the music had been stopped in order to better hear the card game, "Hit me."

Gambler passed Bodycount another card. Bodycount took one look at it before adding it to his hand, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his white lips.

"Anyone else?" Gambler questioned.

"Hit me." Hook answered, a determined look on his faceplate.

Gambler passed him a card from the stack. Taking a look at the card, Hook frowned and slammed his cards onto the table, "Frag. I'm out."

"Anyone else?" Gambler asked a second time.

The others shook their helms no.

"Then let's see what everyone has. Onslaught, you start."

Onslaught grumbled as he showed his cards for all to see, "Fourteen."

Starscream, slid his cards onto the table, a smug look on his faceplate, "Nineteen."

"Twenty." Vortex stated cheerfully, enjoying the dark look he was getting from Starscream.

"Seventeen." Thundercracker replied, uninterested in what was going on.

Bodycount displayed his cards, "Twenty one. I do believe that's a Black Jack."

"And I got a sixteen." Gambler chuckled, "Congratulations, Bodycount. You win."

Many of the onlookers groaned in frustration while a few looked amused by the entire situation. Quickly gathering the cards, Gambler got up and with the assistance of Silverstreak who was locating the Decepticons in question, worked at splitting the earnings from the betting pool.

Bodycount collected the bets that he and the others in the game had put in for their card game and slipped the credits into his subspace. As much as he was tempted to continue playing, Bodycount had other things in mind, such as leaving before the party devolved any further.

A dark blue Decepticon slid into his view, a grin on his faceplate, red optics focused on his, "I'm Static."

"Bodycount." Bodycount replied uninterestedly.

"What are you in charge of?"

"That is none of your business." Bodycount tried slipping pass Static, only for the 'con to get in the way.

"So you are an officer." Static purred, "I know some really good massages that I'm sure you and your trine would enjoy."

Bodycount narrowed his optics, "My trine and I have no interest in you or your services.

Static nudged closer a suggestive look on his faceplate. "You know, I'm always willing to-"

Bodycount flared his doorwings as he threatened the other Decepticon. "I will demote you so hard, you'll be taking orders from drones."

"I already do." Static retorted.

"Would you like to become one yourself?"

"Nah, there's only enough room for one spike rag."

Bodycount narrowed his optics, calculating what he should do when Silverstreak punched Static in the faceplate.

Silverstreak forced himself between the two mechs, doorwings twitching in agitation. "How dare you insult him. Bodycount is twice the mech you'll ever be."

Static brought his hand to his faceplate, rubbing the metal soothingly as he glared at the younger praxian, "This has nothing to do with you. If you want to exchange blows, go play with Ironhide."

Silverstreak reached for his rifle, only to have Bodycount stop him. "Silverstreak, this isn't the time for that."

Seeing that something was going on with this trinemates, Gambler made his way over to the others only to have Darkshade push him into Onslaught who, thinking it was Silverstreak, overthrew a table which angered nearby Decepticons because it caused their high grade to spill all over the floor. It wasn't long until the Rec Room turned into chaos as Soundwave turned the volume up even more and did his best to act as if he saw nothing even though his cassettes were cheering and making bets on who would win specific fights.

With a heavy sigh, posture erect, Bodycount started the task of straightening everything out while Static nonchalantly fled into the hallway.

Static had traveled a good distance before he picked up on the sounds of someone following him. He glanced over his shoulder to find Silverstreak stalking him as a hunter would to their prey. Static darted around a corner and waited, back pressed to the wall as he focused on Silverstreak's footsteps, carefully planning his next move.


	4. Gathering Info

**Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers**

Third Time's a Charm

Chapter 4: Gathering Info

* * *

Silverstreak slowly awoke with the worse processor ache he had ever had. He clearly remembered only having one cube of high grade that, as far as he knew, wasn't tainted with anything.

He didn't feel as if he had a hangover. If anything, it was more as if he had been hit really hard, perhaps repeatedly, in the helm.

Silverstreak remembered hunting down Static after the mech escaped the Rec Room and had called Bodycount things that he couldn't believe would _ever_ be used to describe such a hardworking, caring leader.

He had been following Static down the hallway and that's where his memory went blank.

"He's so cute when he's not fully online. TC, do you think Screamer will let us keep him?" A hand gently brushed one of his doorwings.

"Warp, I don't care where you found him, Bodycount's going to want him back." Thundercracker replied before pressing a hand to Silverstreak's forehelm. "Let's have Hook look him over. I don't want to get the blame if he's not fully functional, especially after what you did when you got ahold of him."

"I still think we should keep him." Skywarp paused, "He's more fun than Screamer. If Bodycount wants him back, why don't we give him Screamer and say it's a trade?"

"It doesn't work like that." Thundercracker sighed, "But it's a tempting."

"Why don't we make it official? Both trines will mismatched, but complete. We get the fun and feisty one, they get the grump and you can be leader."

Silverstreak sat up and looked around, "Where am I?"

Skywarp leaned up against him, a fond smile adorning his face, "You're in our quarters. Screamer's off 'facing Megy again so he won't be back anytime soon. Stay as long as you want."

Silverstreak leaned closer to Thundercracker who was sitting on his other side on their large berth. "How'd I get here?"

Thundercracker answered, slightly amused, "I found you knocked out in the hallway ventilation system. It took a while to get you out, but Skywarp wanted to keep you ever since."

Silverstreak scooted himself off of the berth, much to Skywarp's dismay, and stood up on wobbly legs as a hand went to his helm. "Can you help me to the medbay?"

"Sure." Thundercracker got up and grabbed Silverstreak's arm, pulling it over his shoulder as he supported the mech. "Skywarp, get some recharge."

"What?! I want to help!"

"No. You didn't get any recharge last night and you need it before our shift starts." Thundercracker reasoned as he and Silverstreak headed out of the room.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the correct layout of this base?" Static questioned as he looked over the display.

"This is the only one that was ever posted for this base." Darkshade answered, "Why? Is something wrong with it?"

Static lightly traced the dimensions for the room that they were in, "Yeah. According to this, our room is wider than it is."

"How odd. It could be a small mistake. It's not very different than what this room actually is."

"That's what they want you to think." Static said as he narrowed his optics at the rest of the map, "No, this isn't the only problem."

"How do you know this?" Darkshade asked with disbelief.

"Simple," Static paused, "I know the dimensions of every room I've been in since I got here."

"Why do you have that?"

"I get curious and it's good to know if you're in one place for long periods of time." Static hummed, "There's mistakes everywhere. Someone's hiding something and I think I might know what it is."

Darkshade raised an optic bridge, "What could that be?"

"You said Soundwave might be in charge of the Special Ops and when I was talking to Bodycount, I confirmed that he's an officer. There's no office for Bodycount, not even an empty one, and none of the rooms are designated for only special ops. If 'Wave is the head of special ops, he's going to need somewhere for all of his high security info other than in that processor of his."

"You should talk to the Constructicons about this. They're the ones who built this base and it might be how my last roommate figured out where Bodycount was hiding."

Static frowned, "That's info they're going to freely give away."

"I wasn't the only one he was 'facing." Darkshade chuckled, "He picked up some interesting kinks from the Constructicons."

"Looks like I'm going to have to make some friends." Static stated nonchalantly as he headed out of the room.

* * *

Gambler watched Static leave his room and carefully followed the mech, making sure that he wasn't seen or heard in the process.

Not many could get away from Silverstreak unscathed when the praxian put his mind something and the new recruit was up to something. Static was almost too good to be new, let alone possessing such a low position in the base for the skills he possessed. Rank aside, Gambler had a feeling Static knew more than he was letting on and Gambler was determined to find out what that was.

Either Static was a dangerous enemy in disguise or an extremely useful potential ally.

Gambler wasn't one to get suspicious very easily, but he had a hunch about Static and he didn't accumulate so many credits from sitting around doing nothing.

* * *

Static made sure no one else was around before approaching the Decepticon. "Scrapper, I heard you're the leader of the Constructicons."

"You heard correctly." Scrapper replied, giving Static a curious look as the mech wandered closer to get a good look at the blueprints he was working on.

"Ah, you're the designer as well?" Static whistled, "I've been a great fan of your work. Honestly, who could design an entire city as beautiful and complex as Crystal City?"

"Well… It took me a while to get the designs right, I had a lot of ideas, you know?" Scrapper crossed his arms, "But once I got it figured out, my team and I got to work. It's a lot of fun designing and building all sorts of places. Bonecrusher prefers the Demolition work, but what comes up will one day come down. It's all a matter of when."

Static smiled, "I agree completely."

"Not everyone understands that." Scrapper muttered as he looked back to his work.

"What are you working on?"

"It's no Crystal City, but it's another base Megatron wants us to build. The old base they had got blown up by the Autobots. What they have now is completely useless as far as I'm concerned." Scrapper drew a few lines, "So this one will be better than the last one. It'll hold more Decepticons as well. I was thinking a larger brig would be better seeing how it's near the area where Autobots have been repeatedly sighted."

"Oh, then you'll need more interrogation rooms. It won't matter how big you make the brig if you can't get the info you need."

"Good idea. I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Static watched Scrapper work for a while before speaking up once again, "Did the Constructicons build this base?"

"Of course we did. The place isn't even two vorns old yet. We just finished making repairs from when the Autobots attacked. That was before you got here, but they made quite a mess." Scrapper sighed, "I was surprised when they retreated. I thought they weren't going to stop until the place was a pile of rubble, though it would have made our jobs easier since we'd be able to get away with starting from scratch instead of relying on the old blueprints."

"Is it a common practice to stray from the blueprints?"

"Primus no! I work hard on those. What's the point in making them if we're going to improvise the entire time?!"

Static hummed in agreement, "It's just when I was looking over the blueprints of this base and I noticed the dimensions of the entire place were off. It wasn't by much, but still."

"Which blueprints were you looking at?" Scrapper asked suspiciously, "And why?"

"Curiosity. I wanted to know my way around and not get lost." Static shrugged, "It was the blueprints available to the entire base, no access codes required. I can bring it to you if you'd like."

"Ah, _those_ blueprints." Scrapper gave a sigh of relief, "You had me worried. Those ones were doctored up. For the most part, they're true, but not entirely. You have a sharp optic to have noticed the discrepancy. I never got your designation."

"Static." Static smirked, "I've been around to a lot of places in my functioning and one of the most important skills to have is being attentive to your surroundings."

"Static… Static. Hm… Nice to meet you." Scrapper paused, "You should spend time with the Constructicons. You're not like everyone else and your advice is rather invaluable."

"It's nice to meet you as well. I'd love to spend more time with you and your team."

Scrapper redrew one of his lines, making it shorter than it had previously been, "We're in room 238, but you probably already knew that."

"Yes, but you never know seeing how the blueprints I have access to are somewhat incorrect. I'd love to see the actual blueprints, if you don't mind."

"Just don't get yourself killed like the last one who asked to see it." Scrapper waited for Static's response.

"I got away from Silverstreak last night. I can't make any promises, this is a war after all, but I won't go out without a fight."

"Good enough." Scrapper pulled the blueprints out and spread them out over the blueprints he had been working on. "The blueprints you saw for this base were doctored to hide the fact that an entire section of the base is missing."

Static secretly took a few image captures of the blueprints, "So there _is_ a special ops division housed here."

"Yes, the entrance is well hidden and you better keep this knowledge to yourself. I don't care if you try to find it yourself, but I better not hear of your _discovery_ from the gossip mill." Scrapper warned, "If I do, you'll regret it."

Static brushed his fingers across the blueprints, "I'll do some exploring, but the secret's safe with me."

Scrapper put the blueprints away and started working on his new designs once more, "Good luck with Silverstreak. That sniper doesn't give up easily. Whatever you did to upset him, I hope it wasn't from insulting Bodycount."

Static frowned, "Does he normally hunt down his fellow Decepticons?"

"It all depends on what they did." Scrapper replied, "Now I need to get more of this completed before Hook finishes his shift or else I won't get anything done."

"Thanks again." Static left the room, intent on looking into what he had learned.

* * *

Bodycount narrowed his optics at his trinemate, "So the only reason why you're here is to inform me that Static has been snooping around in order to find my office?"

"Pretty much." Gambler agreed, "Though why he wants to find it, I have no idea. Surely he doesn't want your datapads though today you have so many of them, I can barely see you as it is."

"Then you should leave and let me work on them." Bodycount suggested.

Gambler shifted slightly in his chair, how Silverstreak managed to get instantly comfortable in it, he'd never know. "I was thinking he's an assassin, spy or he's a masochist. Honestly Bodycount, you can't convince me it's out of curiosity."

Bodycount set the completed datapad aside and reached for another, "You think he wants to kill me or is after what I know?"

Gambler nodded, "Or he's a masochist because he insulted you and somehow managed to give Silverstreak the slip. Our trinemate is getting a checkup from Hook at the moment after he woke up in the Command Trine's room. Starscream was gone 'facing Buckethead again."

"You shouldn't call Megatron that and I don't understand why the third option has anything to do with the situation."

"He wants to interface with you." Gambler clarified, "It's been a while since you were last with anyone and he's not all that bad on the optics. Static's symmetrical, even to your meticulously high standards."

Bodycount huffed in agitation, "Why must everything boil down to my 'face life?"

Gambler smirked, "It's because there's a bet going on for a while now is based on you getting fragged and how it effects your mood. Some think that you'll be less strict and be more… oh what's the word, social?"

"I was with Shockwave when he was here."

"Don't remind me." Gambler rubbed his chevron, "I'm still trying to get rid of the mental image when Silverstreak and I walked in. You know what, he doesn't count and even if he did count, everyone's made a point of having at least one good interface after you last had one. Even Silverstreak got laid since then."

Bodycount stiffened, "He did what?"

"Oh you heard me. Silverstreak isn't as innocent as you repeatedly fool yourself into believing. Primus, my last 'face was about two decacycles ago, but don't worry, we're picky with our berthmates."

"That's oddly comforting." Bodycount muttered as he relaxed a bit in his chair, doorwings lowering enough to rest on his chair.

"If you want to give Static a try, you could always use your desk, or let us know beforehand and we'll figure out different sleeping arrangements for the night." Gambler paused, "You'll want to do so before Silverstreak gets ahold of him or somehow convince Silverstreak to leave him alone. Good luck if you chose the latter because I refuse to get involved."

"What happened to 'safety in numbers'?" Bodycount amusedly questioned.

Gambler crossed his arms, a smirk on his faceplate, "That ceased to apply the moment you gave him that rifle."

Bodycount chuckled, "Then it's a good thing he won't attack us."

"There are times where I consider that to be a blessing from Primus." Gambler checked the time and with a groan of frustration, he got up, "It's about time for the nightly bets and card games. I'll see you later this evening and you better not get yourself killed."

"Since when was I not prepared?" Bodycount pulled his acid pelt rifle from its hiding spot next to him with great ease and had it aimed at the door in a matter of astroseconds.

"And if you can't get that?" Gambler questioned. He already knew what the alternatives were, but he just wanted to make sure, especially if Static was an assassin.

Bodycount put the rifle away only to reach inside the desk and pull out a throwing knife. Then, knowing the drill all too well, he put that away and pulled a dagger from his subspace, followed by a loaded pistol. "Satisfied?"

"How about if they're behind you?"

Bodycount looked to the ceiling and let out a small sigh. Getting himself set up in the most likely situation, working on a datapad, he paused his writing only to swing the datapad behind him, letting go of his work as he got up, and picked up his desk chair, posed to strike.

"Now how about if they're mostly unaffected from that?"

Bodycount set the chair back down, grabbed the tossed datapad and got comfortable in his chair once again, "You already know of my skills in hand to hand combat. It's pointless for me to indulge you any further. Besides, didn't you say you needed to go?"

"Alright, alright. Just be careful. We worry about you."

* * *

Static slipped out of the shadows once he was certain Gambler was far enough away before approaching the well hidden door to the secret hallway. When Soundwave entered quarter of a joor ago, the mech didn't press any buttons or connect to the door itself, so there had to be a sensor of some sort. He hadn't seen any motion detectors or cameras, so Soundwave must have pinged the door.

Static was tempted to do the same, but he already knew the possible outcomes. He'd most likely get a message informing him his access was denied and if he was lucky, that would it. If he wasn't, the inhabitants would be notified and he'd lose all chances of surprising them.

Taking a closer look, he spotted a port to the right of the door. Taking the chance, he pulled out his cable and made a direct connection with the system. The first thing he did was make sure it wasn't going to notify anyone of his activities before looking into how the door system worked. As he thought, those with access to the hallway pinged the door and it would automatically open without even notifying anyone else. The tricky part was getting his identification into the system without anyone finding out or else he'd be in some serious, life threatening trouble.

After making a _few_ changes in the coding, he made a hiding spot for his information that he could only hope would be undetectable. He disconnected from the system and with a tense exhale, he pinged the door.

The door silently opened.

Carefully he entered the hallway, only to be startled when it closed behind him.

The hallway was just as well lit as the one he had just left. It was eerie how easy that had all been. The security for the door was as easy as taking an energon goodie from a sparkling which in of itself sent off alarms in his mind seeing how this was supposed to be a an important, but hidden area.

Motion detectors.

Sound detectors.

Cameras.

Static loosened up, a grin appearing on his faceplate right before the mech began disabling and in some cases, completely taking out the device and bringing it with him as he made his way down the hallway.

It didn't take long for him to make it to a door whose label caught his optic.

**Tactics**

He opened the door and quietly slid in. It was an office, a well-kept one with…

_Oh_.

Frag.

Static put on his most charming smile, "Fancy meeting you here."

"You're not supposed to be here." Bodycount growled, doorwings rigid as he aimed at Static's spark chamber with his rifle.

"Me? Oh, I was just taking a look around." Static paused, "Why are you allowed to be here? Last I saw, you didn't have an office."

"This _is_ my office."

"Ah, so you're an officer after all. You know, Counter, I never knew the Decepticons had anything to do with tactics, let alone have a tactical officer. So do you make plans for the Decepticon army or just for the Special Ops?"

Bodycount narrowed his optics, "That is classified information."

Static motioned around the room, "Just like this office?"

"How did you get in here without triggering any alarms?"

Static shrugged, "Cameras. Sound detectors. Motion detectors. They're not all that difficult to get around if you know what you're doing." He innocently pulled the detached motion sensors from his subspace.

"Why are you here?"

Static came closer, only to plop down into the vacant chair and put his pedes up on the desk. "Checking out a few rumors and decided I might as well visit the resident drone if they were true."

Bodycount lowered his rifle and sat down, keeping a close optic on his visitor's movements.

"You know, I'm not here to kill you. If I was, you'd already be dead." Static laughed, "So you might as well stop watching me like a turbohawk.

"Static, it's not every day someone manages to find this area of the base and infiltrate it while avoiding all security measures that are in place." Bodycount explained, "There must be a reason why you're here."

"I already told you. I'm just checking out some rumors and our resident tactician."

"Where did you acquire your skills?"

Static smirked, "Life."

Bodycount did several calculations before voicing his next question, "How are you settling down into life on this base? Are you finding your duties to your liking?"

"It could be better." Static put his pedes down and straightened out, if only marginally. "Monitor duty is too dull for my tastes and it'd be nice if my shifts where a tad bit more mentally stimulating. There's only so much brig duty one mech can handle."

"I see."

"Why? What's going through processor of yours? You need an assistant or something?"

Bodycount shuddered, "Primus forbid someone touch my uncompleted work."

"You know, I wouldn't mind a promotion. It'd be nice to do something different for a change, so what will it be?" Static paused, "Filing?"

"My filing system is perfect as it is and I will not have someone messing it up. It took joors to get it right after Soundwave rummaged through it without my prior knowledge."

"Then what will it be, Counter?"

"My designation is Bodycount." Bodycount flicked his doorwings in mild irritation.

Static crossed his arms, "I'm not going to call you Bodycount all the time. Which would you prefer: Counter, Drone or Spike Rag?"

"You did this on purpose."

"What fun would it be if I didn't?" Static grinned, "Counter it is."

"Fine." Bodycount grumbled, "Would you be interested in becoming a member of the Special Operations Division?"

"A Special Ops agent?"

"Yes."

"I've always wanted to be a secret agent!" Static put his pedes back up on the desk much to Bodycount's irritations, "Will I get to officially be allowed back here whenever I want?"

"Yes."

"Can I hack stuff?"

"Yes."

"Do I get new stuff?"

"Yes."

"Can I blow stuff up?"

"Yes, but only if Soundwave or I okay it first."

"Good enough. How about…" Static paused, "Can I get away with watching 'cons sleep?"

"Yes."

"Will you bail me out of the brig like you do your trinemates?"

Bodycount blinked before answering, "It depends on why you're there in the first place."

"Why not all the time?" Static questioned, moving his pedes over so he could better see Bodycount.

"Because the brig is there for a reason and I am the tactician for the Special Ops, not their sparkling sitter. If you want one, talk to Soundwave."

"Will I go undercover?"

Bodycount hesitated, "Quite possibly, but that is, in part, up to Soundwave."

"Deal. So now that we're done with all of that official slag," Static pushed a stack of datapads to the side with a ped, "you wanna test the strength of your desk?"

"No. My desk is as strong as it needs to be." Bodycount replied as he moved the datapads back into place.

"Huh, I had you figured for a desk loving 'con." Static nudged a different stack of datapads in which Bodycount automatically moved back. "Do you prefer using a berth?"

"Of course I do." Bodycount replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "My office is a place of work and as such, shouldn't be defiled. As a high ranking officer, there are certain expectations that I'm supposed to meet and I refuse to make exceptions."

"Shouldn't doesn't mean no." Static teased, "Top or bottom?"

"That is none of your business." Bodycount huffed.

Static laughed, "It's bottom, isn't it?"

Bodycount stood up, pointing at the door with a stern look on his faceplate, "Get out."

"I'm right, aren't I?" Static grinned, "Spike or valve? Or do you not care?"

"Get. Out." Bodycount repeated, doorwings in an angry 'v' as he glared daggers at the other mech.

Static got up, giving Bodycount a mock salute, "It's been great chatting with you, Counter. We'll have to do this again sometime soon."

* * *

Darkshade caught Static in the hallway, "You do know Silverstreak has been hunting you, right?"

"Again? I thought I lost him." Static groaned in frustration, "Doesn't he ever give up?"

Darkshade shrugged, "It depends on what you did to frag him off, just tell me you didn't insult Bodycount."

Static tensed, "If I did?"

Darkshade grabbed Static, pulling him into a different hallway, "Then whatever you do, don't turn yourself in. The first individual who did that thought it would be best to do so and well…" He opened an unused room and pulled Static in after him, "What do you see?"

Static looked around in the otherwise vacant room, the light occasionally flickering in disuse, "An optic, ped, finger, glossia… spark chamber? Primus, there's a whole bot in here!"

"Yes, this is that bot. Silverstreak slowly took him apart and as you can tell, even though his frame has been spread across this room, he was still functioning and aware when Silverstreak finished." Darkshade watched Static grimace, "The only reason why he offlined was because Silverstreak grew bored of him and forgot to refuel him for a few decacycles."

"What happened to the others?" Static questioned, still examining the bot from a respectful distance.

Darkshade shook his helm, "There were no others. We simply learned from this glitch's mistake, until now that is."

"Any ideas on how to stop Silverstreak other than killing him?"

Darkshade shrugged, "You could try talking to Gambler or Bodycount. They might be able to convince him to let it go, but that's unlikely."

"Where's Gambler?"

Darkshade led him out of the room and to the Rec Room where the praxian was in the middle of the action, taking bets of all kinds.

"Hey, Gambler!" Static called out to the praxian as he worked his way through the crowd.

Gambler chuckled, "You're still kicking after all this time?"

"I need help with Silverstreak."

Gambler smirked, "That's what this betting pool is about. How long does Static evade Silverstreak, what does Silverstreak do with Static and how long does he survive? The pot is already double the size of the last one."

"Which was?" Static questioned.

"Does Bodycount know how to play cards and how well?"

Static glanced towards the door and immediately spotted Silverstreak. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"No. I'd rather watch." Gambler paused, moving his doorwings in greeting to Silverstreak, "If you make a strong enough case with Bodycount, he might help, but the best course of action is to avoid getting shot by Silverstreak and hope he gets bored. Then again, you did call Bodycount a spike rag, so I doubt Silverstreak will let you get away with it."

Static pushed further into the crowd and hid behind some of the larger 'cons before slipping unnoticed into the air vents. He needed to come up with a plan soon or else someone was going to die.


End file.
